Bottom of the Glass
by TheChickenCrazy
Summary: The life of a mercenary doesn't come without baggage, and for those like Miyu and Falco, that's difficult to acknowledge. On the surface, they've overlooked their pasts. Down below, their ghosts are screaming for clarity. But then again, that's what dive bars and the irksome Panther Caroso are for. T for language, one-shot.


**A/N:** This is actually an excerpt from a story I haven't posted on the site yet. I've just really been wanting to get this piece out there, even as a stand-alone, along with _The Hybrid Project_. As a matter of fact, it'd be great if you guys checked it out, maybe left a review. It needs a little love.

Keep in mind, this is an excerpt, so it's _very_ short.

And I unabashedly use BrainyQuote.

Star Fox (c)Nintendo

* * *

 _ **Bottom of the Glass  
**_

"Death and love are the two wings that bear the good man to heaven."

\- Michelangelo

The night Miyu frequented a dive bar in the slums of Corneria's underground community was one she would come to regret for the rest of her life.

She'd been trying to make the most of what little time her team was going to spend there, and anything more uppity than a dilapidated, hole-in-the-wall venue that attracted nothing but scum and those drowning in the misery of their failures would have made her sick. The disgust she felt walking past a businessman's superficial wife in a tawdry dress at an overly illuminated club was unbearable, so much so that it was an anomaly if she sashayed past without uttering a snide remark. She avoided those areas of town completely if it was possible, both before she had joined Star Fox and after. Needless to say, her people skills hadn't improved much upon embarking on something of a life journey with a whopping six other people—the most she had ever been in a room with without being an absolute pest and simply unpleasant to everyone who looked her way. Fay was the only exception to her bad temper, she supposed, although Fox's heroic qualities in particular made him a difficult scapegoat when it came to her bad mood. Not that she would ever admit that.

The venue she'd happened upon was not unfamiliar to her, and she had rather fond memories of herself strolling past it all throughout her youth. It was situated between a small, squalid grocery outlet on the corner that saw many hooded visitors and a thin, decrepit suite that had once been a pleasant little bookstore, the windows allowing sight of pure blackness inside. The bar's architecture had an old-modern style in mind, and one which had been recycled decades ago by the great lot of Corneria. It had been made with smooth, chrome walls and round windows, rimmed with red, and a set of black doors that hosted another circular pane at their center, leaving each with half a window. The lights along the roof's overhand, hidden by the cupped end that curled inward, had once been each of different shades, or all synchronized to gently fade into a fixed spectrum of lively colors that ensnared the essence of nightlife and attracted an abundance of customers. Now, the few not burnt out were a permanent violet, black lights, and the edifice reeked of cigarettes as well as the mixed smell of alcohol and what Miyu pretended to believe was vinegar. There was a jagged hole in the bottom of the left window, closest to the doors, which looked to be just the right size for the average canine head. The section of wooden overhang above the door, once an elegant mahogany to stand out amongst the modern metals and masonry, was rotting out; nails that were much too large pierced the bottom and hung ominously like unsteady stalactites from an amateur, shabby roof job. The building's colors had waned with age and coats of filth and grime, all its pride having ebbed away.

It was perfect.

She ambled in with a tranquil head, welcoming the pungent scent of cleaning chemicals—or some variant of chemicals. Simply a row of bar seats paralleled by a column of booths with a scattering of tables between, the inside of the place was surprisingly well-kept as far as dive bars went, aside from the peanut shells. Someone clearly valued it as much as she did, and made well to keep the business running even at its nadir.

At the very end of the bar, Miyu instantly recognized a fuss of blue feathers covered in an unkempt flight jacket. At first, she was delighted; she and Falco got along a rough ninety percent of the time, to Miyu's own surprise, and the two never ceased to amaze the rest of the team with their unified crude remarks and abrasive behavior. If not for Fay, he'd be the closest thing to a friend she'd had in a long time.

Unfortunately, what she hadn't initially seen was the black-furred feline sitting next to him, who had been partially concealed by shadows. Her irritation became muddled with her confusion as she hesitated a couple feet from Falco's perch. She scowled, narrowing her blue gaze to the ever cumbersome Panther Caroso's. His eyes were a brightly lit yellow, and they appeared to gleam as he realized his new prey. Falco seemed to notice her then, his features tightening to make a livid expression.

Miyu stood for a moment, before grunting and sidling up onto the stool next to Falco. She leaned forward just enough to glower at Panther and then gaze inquiringly at the bird next to her. At her inquisitive look, Falco made a noise that met somewhere between a sigh and a groan. "He won't fuckin' leave me alone," he grumbled. " _Followed_ me when I moved."

"He must really like you," she offered caustically. She glanced up as the bartender, a spotted, jovial-looking hound, approached her on the other side of the bar. He paused across from her, smiling mirthfully.

"Just whiskey on the rocks," she said, stifling her slight apprehension at the man's demeanor. His faint grin and sparkling blue eyes reminded her a bit of Fay.

"That's a favorite here," he remarked pleasantly, backing up and rifling under the counter. Clinking accompanied it, and his gaze flitted to Falco. A glass, devoid of alcohol but with wet ice cubes stained by translucent beige color, sat in front of him.

"It's not everywhere else?" She couldn't help the sarcastic tone from slipping out, and beneath her aggressive front, felt a consequential pang of guilt.

The man, however, didn't seem fazed. "I suppose that's true," he chuckled warmly. She heard the sound of ice being scooped, and he planted a glass with fresh, crystallized cubes inside before her. He followed it up with the bottle, and at the sight of the thin, golden stream flowing into her cup, Miyu had the sensation of a familiar, comforting burn running down her throat and into her stomach. She almost grinned, suddenly extremely pleased that she'd decided to go out that night.

After the bottle's nozzle bobbed back up, the bartender filled Falco's cup, and Miyu noticed him turn to Panther to refill his as well. The hound eyed the feline amusedly before replacing the whiskey and loping away with a polite smile to all three of them. Falco and Panther simultaneously reached for their glasses, but upon noticing this, the bird halted tensely, clutching his cup and louring at the cat. He, in turn, paused as well, as if to mock him. They remained in a deadlock for several seconds, Falco glaring murderously and Panther smirking perversely.

Miyu intently picked up her glass and poured the liquid inside down her throat. The feeling was exactly as that of the one she'd imagined, and a smirk of her own graced her lips after she'd downed it. When she put the glass down, it was terribly empty and her body was wonderfully warm. Next to her, Falco jarred his arm, and a drunken Panther hastily downed his cup. Falco snorted maliciously, only then putting the glass to his beak.

When Panther put his own back down, he peered at Falco appreciatively. "You got me."

"Shut the fuck up."

Miyu laughed a bit at Falco's brusque tone. The downtown urban lilt to his voice made the vehement demand all the more entertaining. Panther feigned an expression of shock, tilting his head comically at the bird. The action was nearly as amusing as the one preceding it, but Miyu made an attempt to hide her snicker. "Don't you have anyone else you can try and molest?" she inquired malignantly. Panther returned the question with a sloppy grin, his eyes flitting to her. His scleras were overtaken with red, and she realized that he was far more drunk that she'd thought.

"Why, no, milady, I don't," he teetered on his chair as he answered, looking far too happy.

"He isn't going anywhere," Falco groused. Miyu snorted. The bird nodded his head a bit. "Get him enough drinks and maybe his kidney will fail. Then we're home free," he said.

"To deal with Wolf and his psychopathic best buddy? I'll pass on that one," Miyu replied, candidly. If there was one thing she would admit to, it was that Wolf was scary as hell, and Leon was fucking nuts.

"Eh," Falco shrugged. "No biggie."

"No biggie? Did you _see_ him hit me on Katina?"

"Yeah. You flew."

"Ten fucking feet. Not happening again."

A laugh nearly bubbled in the bird. "Heh. Didn't think you were such a scaredy-cat."

Miyu emitted a long, disgusted scoff. "That was bad, Falco. Like, Slippy bad."

"How...rude," Panther drawled, elbowing Falco's arm. His neck tensed, dark green eyes narrowing to slits and jaw clenching in response. "I take offense to such language."

The feline butchered the word _offense_ , his pronunciation over-emphasizing the "off" and slurring the "ense". There was also a short pause between _such_ and _language_ , as if his train of thought had nearly derailed itself. Miyu would have considered it a shame that his attention span had lasted, if it were not for the fact that she could wisely assume that his perversion would only further itself under a different topic; moreover, he was bound to persist in making conversation, so she would rather listen to his confused rambling than be subjected to conscious discussion.

"You know," she began, smiling haughtily at the other cat around Falco's beak, "I understand now why Krystal did what she did." She tossed her hands up in mock-sweetness, smile contorting into a conceited smirk as the corners of her lips twisted in an upward motion. "You're really fucking annoying. I feel bad for her, putting up with _you_ for even ten minutes."

Panther blinked, expression blank. There was the faintest flash of hurt in his eyes, and he swallowed, otherwise silent at the barb. Falco had raised a brow and spared a look at the other man, but something else began to emerge in his gaze then. There was dissonant warmth there, roiling in clouds unseen. It was a playful challenge, which made Miyu's smile disperse as quickly as it had come. To both her and Falco's surprise, the man suddenly stood, wobbling a bit as he did so. As he began to walk, he steadied himself with a hand on Falco's left shoulder, a gesture which, being very much unappreciated, resulted in a violent swing of the arm from the latter man. Still, Panther caught himself mid-stumble, and to Miyu's great chagrin, settled into the chair next to her. He offered her an astonishingly immaculate and knowing smile, yellow eyes alive with what was clearly a familiar dance of mischief. Unsettled, Miyu moved to inch away, but only the top half of her body got much of anywhere, elbow bumping Falco's with sudden uneasiness.

"You are feisty," the jaguar purred. "I _like_ that."

"Don't start on me, fuckhead," Miyu snarled. "You can bat Krystal's tail all you want, but stay the hell away from me."

"That isn't my intention," he chuckled, eyes fixed on her. "No, you know...you've always... _reminded_ me of someone."

"Jesus Christ," Falco groaned, dropping his head into his right hand. "Just fuck off already."

Panther's smile fell, but his gaze followed Miyu all the while. It was as if glass had crystallized over his irises. "The s...same humor. The same eyes. The same f...fire."

Though she was spiteful, Miyu watched him warily, body angled away. Some strange weight dropped in her stomach as the glass turned wet, threatening to spill from Panther's eyes. Her own widened, eyebrows cinching yet closer and head rearing in unwonted absorption. "What the hell?" she uttered, though the acerbic tone failed to carry.

"Her name was Sonnet," Panther breathed, as pristine as a deity once more. "It was Sonnet."

Miyu cast a bewildered glance at Falco, but the bird was watching Panther with captivated, if bitter, eyes, arms folded below his leaning torso again. It could be the numerous past drinks drawing his attention, or, as was the case for Miyu, the male feline's celestial, melancholy aura. Perhaps both. Suddenly, she didn't have the heart to spit flame in his presence.

Panther turned his gaze down to the counter as the bartender set another glass in front of him, surprising a rapt Miyu. After the hound walked away again, his chops parted, only to close once more with a quiver. The uncharacteristic behavior brought Miyu awkward discomfort, but her interest had been piqued. "...Um, sorry?" she said, as if probing him to explain.

With a light exhalation, Panther downed the drink quickly, head rebounding off of some nonexistent wall in the air as he emptied the glass. The sound of a second exhalation met her ears, along with the suction effect from his tongue separating from the roof of his mouth. "Don't be. It wasn't your fault."

Miyu's fingers curled around her own glass. The bartender hadn't filled hers or Falco's. Her mouth was dry, and though she was dreading the melodramatic, solemn conversation that was undoubtedly on its way, her furtive regards kept her listening. Vainly, she turned to Falco, as if she could hold on to her ornery indifference. "He's spouting abstract poetry."

The avian's dark eyes were empty, but his expression was cold. He didn't answer, still scrutinizing Panther. "Yeah, tell us your fuckin' sob story, then. Maybe it'll bore me to sleep. Hell knows I need it."

The cat narrowed his eyes. "Though I find your existence _pointless,_ I wouldn't...burden you with such things."

Falco sniggered frigidly. "Your whining doesn't strike my sympathy, bub."

For the first time, Panther looked genuinely angry. "Because you don't _have_ it," he spit, bristling. The bartender turned to watch them, expression blank but body tensed. "What do you know...about sadness? What h-have _you_ lost?"

"Oh yeah. Poetry," Falco deadpanned viciously. Some dark thing, some cold memory, fluttered in his eyes.

"You want to hear my 'sob story'?" Panther demanded, words beginning to slur again.

"Not really."

" _My pleasure,_ mitething. Once upon a t-h...time, _I_ had a little..." he paused a moment, looking as though he were concentrating. There was no white left around his irises. "...a little shadow. And then, one day, I didn't..." He trailed off, teeth bared at Falco. Though his awkwardly vague anecdote had been sluggish, monotone, and anything but daunting due to his intoxicated state, Miyu resisted her vehement urge to shrink away from his long fangs.

The bird offered a dubious, acrimonious look. "What the fuck are you looking at me for? I'm not the one taking you and your baggage home tonight, you fuckin' moron. That's what she's for," he retorted, ignoring Miyu's venomous glower and betrayed expression. He ignored her, raising his glass to beckon the bartender.

"Have you ever seen s-something that s-stayed with you every moment afterward? Seen an event that you carry every second...second of every day, that influences every decision you make?" the cat continued grievously, slurring many _s_ 's and _sh_ 's.

Falco snorted then, obnoxiously and with malice. His eyes sang of fury and some buried pain as the bartender filled his glass again, sliding a second up next to it with a knowing look and finally refilling Miyu's. "Shut the fuck up," the bird repeated.

To her great surprise, Panther abruptly turned on Miyu, eyes blazing. "Have you buried a loved one?" he hissed.

Recoiling, her features fell into a trademark scowl as she eyed him in vexation. "What?"

"I haven't," he moaned, turning back to the bar. The bartender strode off again, a noticeable solemnity to his eyes as he glanced at Panther. "I couldn't do it. I couldn't even look at her."

"Look at who? Your girlfriend?" Miyu asked, avoiding his eyes and instead staring at the bartender's back.

"She was my s-sister," Panther growled.

Miyu's eyes returned to him, but she didn't prompt him again. Her stomach was tight, and she hadn't yet touched the alcohol in front of her.

He met her gaze for no more than three seconds before the glossy sheen reappeared over his eyes and they flitted away. She saw him swallow again, hands tightened into bone-crushing fists. He stayed like that, despondent.

They sat there for nearly a minute, Panther staring off into space and swaying slightly, Miyu awaiting further disclosure, and Falco glaring down at his full cup with reflective, pained eyes. He'd angled his body away so that she couldn't see, but his taut shoulders and bowed head said it all. Miyu eventually greeted her liquor again, and it ran down her throat with heat like that of her usual spirit. It was even more addicting in that moment, on that night, in that place, where and when she and the two men beside her jadedly licked their wounds, denying their pains and sorrows. She raised it up, downing a second when the barman refilled it, then a third, and then a fourth. The buzz was incredibly welcome, and she closed her eyes, relishing in the numbness.

"Bzzt."

Miyu jumped, eyes snapping open wide. Falco was frowning inquisitively at Panther, whose gaze was boring into her. Cautiously but curiously, she glanced back at him. Slowly, he put his index finger to his right temple. He had swiveled his bar seat toward her, so that he faced her completely, and he was leaning forward with their muzzles less than a half a foot apart. His wrist twitched, and she waited for the mock trigger, for his thumb to move up and down again, but it never came.

"Bzzt." His fingertip swiveled, wrist twisting. Miyu winced, realizing her mistake.

With shocking grace, Panther stood very suddenly, digging in his chest pocket. He dropped a roll of wadded bills on the counter, refusing to meet Miyu's shocked eyes as he turned and strode away, wobbling just a bit. Though he was off to leave, a sensation of shared hollowness between the three remained thickly palpable even with his departure. She watched him push his way out the door, and on until the tip of his drooping tail disappeared behind the last window frame.

"Bummer," Falco remarked flatly, voice carrying a suddenly rugged texture. His shoulders wilted in something near defeat.

Miyu continued to stare out the window. It had begun to rain, and she briefly reflected on the fact that she would be walking back to her hotel room without a hood. "Did you hear it?"

"Hear what?" Falco replied, stifling a sigh as he finally drank from his cup.

All the liquor's warmth suddenly abandoned her to a wasteland of blood as cold as Fichina snow. "The drill."

Falco scrutinized the bottom of his empty glass, twirling it in a circular motion as if the absent alcohol was hiding there. He sat up a bit, setting the cup down with unwonted gentleness and finally returning her gaze. The ice had melted. "Yeah."

* * *

 **A/N:** "Mitething" is a racist insult toward avians that I coined while writing the story this piece came from.

Please leave a review and let me know what you guys think. Also, I would, once again, love to know that you guys checked out _The Hybrid Project_ , if you find the time and would be willing. I am not embarrassed to beg.


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